"He is very modest," said John, "which is a sign of grace. But for all, he doesn't say much, he is a lad of first-rate abilities—easy to see that; and he has made good use of his opportunities. He has had a good education, you know."
"Ought to have had; cost money enough, I know that. Well?"
"Well, what more do you wish me to say?" asked puzzled John.
"Anything and everything."
"He is rather quiet," returned John, thus urged on; "he is altogether a nice, amiable lad. I like him very much. I think you ought to be proud of him, Tom; and I have no doubt you are."
"Oh, proud! Well, as to that, everybody's own geese are swans, you know, John; and that's why I want your opinion, he not being a goose of your incubation, you know. But I have got something more to say. Do you know Tom has given me a good deal of anxiety lately?"
"Has he? I am sorry for that. I wasn't at all aware of any difference between him and you."
"No, there is no difference—in one way of looking at it, at least, but there is in another."
"Dear me!" quoth John, quite concerned. "Why, you seem always to get on so well together. I am sure your Tom has a very strong affection, as well as a high respect for you. A difference! I should never have guessed it, nor yet that he was giving you any trouble in any way, Tom." John said this very earnestly, and sorrowfully too.
"'Tis nothing much in one way of looking at it, but in another it is a good deal; and the truth is, I want to hear what you have to say about it. Perhaps you can help me out of the difficulty, John."